


Erotic Encounters: Ciri and the bruxa

by kaddra



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher (Video Game), Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Beast - Freeform, CNC, F/F, Seduction, vampire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-14
Updated: 2020-09-14
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:33:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26463472
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaddra/pseuds/kaddra
Summary: Taking place after the events of the Witcher 3: Wild Hunt, princess Cirilla has become a full fledged Witcheress and currently finds herself in the former realm of Kaedwen, on the hunt for a vampire. But in reality, who is hunting who?
Relationships: Cirilla Fiona Elen Riannon/Original Female Character(s)
Kudos: 5





	Erotic Encounters: Ciri and the bruxa

After effectively saving the world from the White Frost and banishing or killing the Aen Elle elves who had come to claim her, princess Cirilla followed in her adopted father's footsteps and became the first official witcheress the continent had seen, though she never underwent most of the mutations. Together the two walked the Path for a while, but as witchers ultimately hunt alone, their roads eventually diverged and Ciri now finds herself alone, deep in the countryside of what was once the realm of Kaedwen, hunting a bruxa.

The sun was setting on the distant horizon, clean water was running out and the trail had long since gone cold when witcheress Cirilla finally decided to call it a day and return to the nearest village to develop a new strategy.  
«Gods damn it all,» she huffed in frustration as a large thorn from the thicket she was traversing tore yet another hole in her tunic. «On top of the stench that wont leave my skin for weeks and the horrendous pay these people are offering me for risking my neck, now I'll need to invest in a new outfit as well. Perhaps Geralt was right, in Novigrad the unbuttoned shirt served me well, but out here nothing beats a leather jerkin. Never admitting that to him, of course.»

Bruised, beaten and tired Ciri returned to the town of Hewe where she was renting a room for the duration of her stay in the area. After she had made inquiries about supper and ordered a bucket of warm water for her bath, she retreated to the solitude of her own room and took off her tattered shirt, eager to get the sticky fabric off of her, and to gauge the damage it had suffered in the brushes.

«Nothing a good needle and thread wont fix, but of course I didn't think to bring sowing equipment with me, and there's no reason to believe I'll find any in this town.» As she prepared to rip off a sleeve so she could make a temporary binding that would keep the rest of her shirt in one piece, a succession of knocks tapped against her door. 

«Your supper'll be ready within the hour, m'am! In the meantime I have the warm water you asked for, if you would be so kind as to open the door!» Dropping the pieces of fabric she had been fiddling with on the floor where she sat, Ciri got up and approached the door, eager to take the first steps to deal with the stench that clung to her. As soon as she did so, however, another strange smell hit her nose and her vision became blurry. The face of the taverngirl on the other side of the door showed no outwards signs of worry, which immediately set off red flags in Ciri's head, but she was already too foggy to react, and a quick jab to her head sent her to the floor, unconcious. 

When she awoke, even before her vision cleared she was already alert and eager, and discovered she was tied up to the bedpost only after she tried leaping out of the bed, the metal chains that held her immediately going tight and restrictive. After blinking a couple of times she began scanning the room, and soon saw the taverngirl standing near the foot of the bed, with the same indifferent expression as when Ciri had first opened the door. In any other scenario, Ciri would have found this woman exceedingly beautiful, though she had other things to think of in this moment. 

«What do you want, you bitch?» Ciri spat, accentuated by a glob of spit that hurled itself from her mouth and landed on the bedsheets. «Come on then, I'm dying to hear what this is all about.» The woman stood unmoving, and only now displayed the first hint of emotion Ciri had seen, when her mouth curled into an evil grin and her eyes met Ciri's. The sight may have frightened most, but Ciri was not impressed. «How about you use your lips to do something other than smile, and tell me what the hell is going on? You don't scare me, so don't even waste my time, you utter hag.»

«You were closer when you called me a bitch, witcher.» The woman said, and in doing so made the first dent in Ciri's armor. Before the witcher could respond, she continued. «I hear you have been asking about me around town, and I don't appreciate that. I prefer to stay... discrete.» 

Annoyed, both at the prospect of finding herself at the bruxa's mercy and also at the fact that she had spent the last three days crawling through viny marshlands for nothing, Ciri's scowl became almost inhuman. Rather than overplay her confidence, however, she remembered Geralt's teachings. 

«So what now? You have me chained to a bed with dimeritium, when you could have easily killed me a dozen times by now. This tells me you need something from me, question is what do I have that is of interest to you? And why in the world would I ever give it to you after you drugged me and tied me up?» Confident that she had gained the upper hand in the conversation, a second dent was made when the bruxa's smile widened, showing off just a hint of the fangs she hid behind her lips. 

«Who says I want anything from you, witcher? You've made three major mistakes ever since waking up, my dear girl. The first was that you thought you could beat a vampire in a game of confidence. I am older than you can imagine, and have faced much more able opponents than you. But then, on the other hand...» The bruxa took a step closer to the bed, and began to slowly unbutton the corset that held her dress up. In her confusion, Ciri was not sure how to react to this, as her eyes held firm to the seductive display in front of her, darting off only momentarily to once again establish eye-contact in vain attempts at gaining some insight into the situation.

«On the other hand,» the bruxa continued a few seconds later, having now removed her corset, leaving her in a thin, loose shirt and a skirt that threatened to fall down at any second. «Most of my prior encounters have been with men, who are no fun in the least.» She took a second step towards the bed, and in doing so caused the skirt to fall. Ciri had hoped the sound of the heavy fabric impacting on the floor had masked her slight gasp, but she lad little faith that it had. The bruxa now stood there in nothing but her shirt, though to Ciri's annoyance it still covered up all the intriguing bits. «Your second mistake was likening yourself to a stone wall, immovable and impenetrable. I see through you, girl. You want me. You need me.» With that she leaned over on the bed, and began to slowly crawl towards Ciri, stopping with her head right above her stomach. 

«You... you're wrong. You're a disgusting vampire... I'm not...» Ciri stammered, but couldn't even convince herself, and the bruxa's only response was another wide smile as she lowered herself down, and began to remove Ciri's yellow boots. Lying there, now wearing only her bra, her belt and her brown leather pants, Ciri's cheeks flushed and she felt for a second she might combust. For a moment she made an attempt to shut her eyes, but as soon as she felt the bruxa start to undo her belt she opened them again, clearly betrayed by her own body. 

«Hush, girl. Enjoy yourself.» Even the voice, which now was much lower than before, sent shivers down Ciri's spine, as the vampire lazily threw the belt over on the floor, next to the tattered shirt that had been discarded much earlier. With a gentle but firm tug Ciri's pants began to come off, and as much as she knew that it shouldn't be happening, Ciri made no attempt at stopping it. A few seconds later, and the pants joined the growing pile of clothes strewn across the floor. «Your body knows it, it's just a matter of time before your brain agrees. You want this, and you shall have it. Be patient.»

Patient? Ciri's heart felt like it might beat right out of her chest, and her arms were flailing about like crazy in their binds, yet she knew there was no escaping this. Even her powers were dampened by the material of the cuffs. A small voice in her head said «she's right you know. You want this» and despite her better judgement, Ciri deep down agreed. 

«Oh,» the bruxa laughed to herself suddenly, gesturing to Ciri's crotch. «I had a feeling I was right, that you wanted this. Judging by this wet spot, though, I seem to have underestimated just how much. Here I though I was dealing with a seasoned witcher, when it turns out you are not much more than a slut in heat.» Ciri's cheeks reddened even more, and she dared not break eye-contact with the woman who had by this point straddled her leg. She felt a slick sensation from the point of contact, and made a guess as to what caused it. The vampire was getting off on this as well.

«Let me help you get those off. If you dont leave them to dry properly they will never be the same again,» she said as a sharp claw dug into the fabric and tore it in half. «Oops. Now you'll need new ones.» Ciri gasped as the thin layer of damp cloth that covered her womanhood snapped, and a surge of cold air suddenly tickled her most private area. The finger neared her opening, and Ciri dared look away for a second only to notice the claw was once again a normal nail, before she re-established eye contact. She let out a moan of relief as the finger dragged across her slit and scooped up a vast amount of juice. «Oh my word, you're soaking the bedsheets. Here, I know just the thing,» the vampire continued, and leaned forwards to drag the wet finger across Ciri's face, first leaving a wet trail underneath her nose, then smearing the rest across her lips. The vampire then retreated back down Ciri's stomach and left small kisses all the way from her clavicle to her lower stomach. When she finally reached Ciri's crotch yet again she dove straight in, using her tongue to lick her clit, and her hands to scoop up the spillage, which she then smeared across various spots on the witcher's body, literally coating her in a thin layer of her own arousal. 

Ciri wasted no time and began to vocalize her pleasure at the first sign of contact, and her gentle sounds slowly ascended to loud moans, which in turn crescendoed in a loud scream as her first orgasm washed over her. As she crested the edge, a wave of intense warmth, unlike anything Ciri had ever felt before, made its way down to her nether regions and was unleashed into the bruxa's face, drenching her. Her sweat had begun to mingle with the juices the vampire had left all across her body, and soon she also felt the almost rhythmic sensation of her captor grinding back and forth across her thigh. As her vision cleared in the aftermath of her mindshattering orgasm, Ciri noticed the bruxa was no longer paying any attention to her vagina, and glanced down to find out why. 

The shirt her captor had kept on was now positively drenched, which left little to the imagination as Ciri admired the sight of the bruxa, who now seemed to think of nothing else but her own pleasure, as she increased the pace at which she sloshed back and forth across Ciri's tattooed thigh, leaving the red rose partially obscured by a thin sheet of creamy lubrication. The witcher raised her leg slightly in an attempt to both give the bruxa a better grip, but also to try to catch her attention. It worked on both accounts, and as the witcher and the vampire made eye-contact again, an intense moan escaped the bruxa's lips and Ciri felt a wave of warm wetness flow out and cover her leg.

«Told you you wanted this» the vampire said with a coy smile before she untangled herself from Ciri's leg and rose to her feet, beads of clear liquid still dripping from her slit and down her thighs as she now found herself standing on the bed, above Ciri, who by this point had forsaken all attempts to resist. She barely gave herself time to discard her drenched shirt before she yet again sat down across Ciri, this time across her stomach. With one hand she produced the sharp claw again and tore the witcher's bra in half, while with the other she reached down to caress herself. After a few moments of petting, she opened her eyes and found Ciri's who was looking at the vampire as if blinking would kill her. «You got my hair all wet, you know. Didn't expect you to be a gusher, not that I'm particularly surprised. Among my kind, there is one unwritten rule paramount to all others, and the way I understand it, you humans have a similar concept. An eye for an eye, ring any bells?»

Ciri took a second to ponder the question before the bruxa, who by this point had inserted a finger into herself, decreed that time was up and that she was due some payback. Without her hand ever missing a beat, the bruxa rotated herself on top of Ciri and positioned herself right above the witcher's face.

«I do hope you're a strong swimmer, because I am not getting off until you give me a reason to.» Ciri, now realizing what she meant by getting her hair wet, and what she was on about with eyes for eyes, eagerly set to work, unsure whether or not the threat was genuine. As if she had read Ciri's mind, the vampire began fondling Ciri's breasts, going back and forth between tweaking her nipples between her slender fingers and massaging them with rough strokes. For several minutes all that could be heard within the bedroom were the gentle moans of the witcher and the bruxa, before seemingly out of nowhere the latter erupted into a howl, and showered Ciri in her affection, truly fulfilling the unwritten laws of her kind. She then dismounted the witcher's face and turned back around, marveling at how her juices had made an absolute mess of the witcher's makeup. «Perfection,» she muttered out loud, though even she knew not what particular aspect she was referring to.

«Almost,» Ciri responded, bringing the bruxa out of her post-orgasmic trance. Sensing confusion in her lover's eyes, Ciri continued. «Almost perfect. The way I see it, I'm down one. With how your people seem to value equality so much, that hardly seems fair.» As revealed by her grin, the bruxa quickly caught on to Ciri's intentions, and leaned in to cup her head and merge their mouths for the first time, before she eventually made things right, a process which seemed to go on through the entire night, as the two women never landed on the same number. 

Hours went by, and the two women tried most positions in the book, with the bruxa for the most part being in control, and Ciri acting as the obedient servant. It was a dynamic Ciri was not used to in the bedroom, but here she couldn't exactly argue, even if she had any wish to do so.

«Hng, yes just like that! Ah!» the witcher exclaimed as yet another orgasm washed over her, a product of the three fingers that were currently knuckle-deep inside of her. In the post-orgasmic bliss she felt a wave of clarity, and a question resurfaced in her head that she had meant to ask a lot sooner. «You said I had made three mistakes, yet you only mentioned two. What's the final thing I need to keep in mind for, uh!» the bruxa had now taken out her fingers and was in the process of delivering several hard slaps to the witcher's bottom. Ciri sensed how hoarse her voice was from all the prior screaming. «to keep in mind in order to avoid this happening to me again?» The bruxa laughed in response.

«It's quite an easy one, dear girl. Though it wasn't as severe of a mistake as the two others.» By this point the barrage of spanks had ended, and the bruxa rotated around so she was face to face with Ciri, mere inches from each other. With a sly smile, the bruxa continued. «Your comment about my lips. It sounded as if you assumed I would do little else but smile with these lips.» As she spoke she slowly moved her head closer to Ciri's, and with the final syllable uttered she dove in for a kiss, one hand on Ciri's cheek for support, the other already on the way back inside of her oozing cave.

Dawn came and went, and it was well into the afternoon before Ciri awoke, her body sticky with sweat and other, more uncommon fluids and she initially found herself wondering if it had all been a dream. As she turned around in bed her worries were quickly dismissed when she discovered how sore she was all over, but after a quick scan around the room there were no traces of her vampire lover. After she had quenched her thirst with what was once her bathwater, now gone cold, she spotted a note dropped in the pile of her belongings, which had been carelessly discared during the night. 

Dear Ciri,

First of all, yes I pieced together exactly who you were. Rumors have spread of a white-haired witcheress with teleportation abilities in these parts, and that flash of green I saw in your eyes whenever I took you over the edge confirmed my suspicions.

I regret to say that by the time you read this, I will be long gone, though I hope to one day embrace you again. You are a witcher and I am a monster, and I fear the conversation we would have upon waking up would be unpleasant, so I opted to avoid it altogether. You will not see nor hear of me in these parts for many long years, if at all, so you may tell whoever gave you the contract that your job is complete, whether or not to include the details I leave to you. In your pile I have also left proof you may present should they doubt you, though I suspect you are just as likely to keep them for yourself.

Farewell, my fair witcheress

P.S.: As dictated by my people's traditions, what I had and gave to you, I took from you as well. They weren't particularly useful anymore anyways, I should think, but they still serve as a memento.

Though she was certain she knew what had transpired, Ciri's eyes still went wide when she discovered a pair of green panties, bundled together and still moist, in her pile of clothing. It also didn't shock her much that her own brown panties, ripped as they were, were nowhere to be seen.

The witcher took the rest of the day to relax and recover from the nocturnal activities, and as dawn broke she set out to turn in her contract at the ealderman's home, knowing full well she was attracting a lot of looks on account of her appearance. Not often did the people of Hewe see young women with swords on their backs, let alone women with smeared makeup, dishevelled and sticky hair, torn clothes and apparently completely without underwear.


End file.
